


on almost any sunday morning

by constantblur



Series: 2018 Writing Challenges [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Keithtober, M/M, indulgent snark and fluff, prompt: lazy morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 09:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constantblur/pseuds/constantblur
Summary: “Lance,” Keith says. “It’s already seven o’clock.”“Oh my god,” Lance groans, hands dragging down his face in exasperation. “Why am I marrying you?”Keith rewets the paintbrush and leans in to add another coat to the trim. “The presents,” he deadpans.Lance and Keith take some time to slow down.





	on almost any sunday morning

**Author's Note:**

> the klancetober prompt for day six was "lazy afternoon" but it got changed to "lazy morning" because keith is annoying

Lance wakes up to an empty bed and the smell of wet paint. He rolls over, buries his face in the cold pillow, and groans. _This was not the plan_.

Eventually he works himself up to a sitting position, grumbling to himself and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He almost tumbles straight to the floor as he tries to stand from the bed; the frame had finally been delivered yesterday, but after sleeping on just a mattress and box spring stacked on the floor for several weeks, the sudden extra space between the mattress and the floor is going to take some adjusting to.

Lance extracts boxers and a worn old t-shirt from the dresser that had taken an entire afternoon and evening to put together, thanks to the indecipherable instruction manual that had clearly been translated from a language that doesn’t exist on this planet and therefore has no bearing to actual Earth languages. Padding down the hallway while he pulls on the shirt, he finds Keith halfway up the ladder, using a brush to carefully paint the trim.

“Good morning, darling,” Lance drawls. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m _efficient_ ,” Keith says, focus unwavering as he draws the brush in a steady line. “This needs to be done before we get the new wall unit delivered, and if I do things on your schedule, this house will be a neverending work-in-progress.”

“My schedule,” Lance says dryly. “You mean a normal human schedule?”

“Lance,” Keith says, finally looking down. “It’s already seven o’clock.”

“Oh my god,” Lance groans, hands dragging down his face in exasperation. “Why am I marrying you?”

Keith rewets the paintbrush and leans in to add another coat to the trim. “The presents,” he deadpans.

“True,” Lance says, leaning against the wall underneath Keith. “Engagement presents, wedding presents, then _anniversary_ presents every year for the rest of time. Pretty good gig, right?”

“Right,” Keith echoes. “Are you going to start helping me with this any time soon, or . . . ?”

“Wish I could,” Lance says before giving an exaggerated yawn, “but my fiancé woke me up before ten on a weekend and now I’m just so painfully tired that I couldn’t possibly even summon the strength to hold a brush.”

“Tired,” Keith scoffs. “You’re just lazy.”

Lance tilts a grin up at him as he walks up to the ladder. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he says. His hands curve around Keith’s ankles, slowly move up his legs with a gentle, teasing touch. “I think I was pretty ambitious last night.”

“Lance,” Keith says as a warning, but there’s no heat behind it.

“Come back to bed,” Lance says softly.

“Lance.” And Lance already knows he’s won by that tone of voice that says, _I know I shouldn’t give in, but I want to anyway_.

“I just want to spend some time with you,” Lance says. He presses a kiss to Keith’s bare calf. “We’ve been going nonstop for weeks with the move and the wedding and my Great Aunt Lola.”

Keith snorts.

“Can we just . . . slow down?” Lance continues. “Just for one morning?”

Without a word, Keith steps down the ladder. He takes Lance’s hand, leads him back to the bedroom, and soon they’re snuggled up together under the covers like they just woke up this way. _This was the plan_.

“All right?” Keith murmurs, brushing a kiss against the top of Lance’s head.

Lance smiles. “Yeah.” Better than all right. He likes it here, head pillowed on Keith’s chest, Keith’s arms around his waist, legs tangled together like there’s never going to be any need to separate them. “You’ve got a very nice bump-bu-bump going on in there,” he says quietly. “I like it.”

And, surprisingly, Keith seems content to let him lie there listening to it until the light coming through the blinds is no longer morning soft.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/constantblur_)


End file.
